


Anxiety and the Dragon

by Demial



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Comfort, F/M, Low Self Esteem, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demial/pseuds/Demial
Summary: Reader has anxiety and low self-esteem, plus a crush on Hanzo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's not terribly important what gender the reader is, but I wrote it from my perspective. So there's a mention or two of the reader being female.
> 
> This took a lot out of me to write. I hope it makes someone feel better by the time they get to the end. The words in italics represent Reader's thoughts.

You lay in bed, a slave to the thoughts running through your mind.

_I should go train, or I might get rusty. What if he's there? No, I don't want him to see me. I'll make a mistake, and he'll see. He's so perfect. I'm so not. But I want to see him. Is there a way I can look at him without him seeing me? He's so beautiful. He looks perfect. No, I'm being a freak. A creeper. Why would he even notice someone like me? My feelings; they don't mean anything. They're not important. A distraction. I need to concentrate on being an agent. Keep them down, keep them down..._

On and on it went, your train of thought like a goldfish residing in a cliche goldfish bowl. Swimming in circles, trapped in your own mind.

You wound yourself up, muscles slowing tensing more and more. Your blood pressure continue to rise until-

 _Beep_.

You bring your phone up to your face and swipe the screen to view the most recent text.

Boostio: Hey, Chica! Wanna come train with me and Hana? We tried to train by ourselves, but she's complaining it's boring...

You sat up, tempted. You never worried around Lucio. Hana, sometimes. But Lucio, never.

You finally decide to drag your lazy ass out of bed after threatening yourself with a scenario where the other agents find out you hadn't been training hard enough to keep up with them (you don't notice that you're probably training the hardest). You get ready as fast as you can, as if being fast would help you get away from your feelings of shame and inadequacy better. You somehow managed to push thoughts of your favourite agent away in your mind. For now.

Walking down the corridor to the appropriate training room, a sudden spike of fear drove into the back of your mind. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. You whipped around to look behind you, a terrified expression on your face.

Nothing. Of course it was nothing.

You feel a hot blush overwhelm your face as you continue to walk down the hall. Unconsciously, your pace increased, trying again to escape from the unwanted feelings.

. . .

The training session with Lucio and Hana livened up your spirits. You start to think that maybe the rest of the day will be okay. Maybe this will be a good day. After working so hard, you're hungry, so you head to the watchpoint kitchen in search of a quick meal. You're so hungry that you're too lazy to make a proper meal. You'll make a healthy meal for yourself next time, you promise yourself. The ever-present, scathing voice in the back of your mind calls your bullshit.

You round the corner of the open door, trying to decide what to make to fill your demanding stomach.

 _Oh, hey. It's him._ Hanzo. Look at his pretty black hair. Look at his broad, muscular shoulders. Look at how he seems to appear so manly, yet soft. Like a rose that has sharp thorns but sports silky petals. You know he could fuck most people up and look prettier than a lot of feminine women while doing it.

You snap out of your reverie, another blush darkening your face. He had said something. You missed it! _Idiot! Rude!_

"What? I mean...pardon?" You manage to get out, convinced you sound pathetic.

"I said 'afternoon'," He's looking at you with those lovely, dark eyes. You can only imagine what he's thinking.

"Oh. Afternoon!"

_Food, food. Get the food started. Concentrate on that instead of him._

You turn from him, rushing to search through the cabinets for the last package of chicken-flavoured instant noodles you knew were in there. You knew you saw one last time you were in here. There's no way someone else ate it. It's gotta be here somewhere-

"Would you like to join me?" You start, dropping the can of condensed soup you were holding. It makes an impossibly loud sound. You pick it up and quickly stuff it back in the cabinet, not caring how it fit.

"Pardon?" _You remembered your manners this time. Good girl._

"I made too much tea. Could you help me drink it before it gets cold?" Hanzo is turned around in his chair, gazing at you with that ever-present stern look on his face. How he manages to avoid wrinkles while sporting such an expression all the time is anyone's guess. _Is the skin on his face soft?_

"Uhhh...sure!"

You abandon your search, your hunger forgotten in favour of spending time with the deadly beauty seated at the table.

You dare to sit next to him. He is pouring green tea into a second cup that is already on the table. You find that odd but immediately let the thought go. You wrap your hands and fingers around the cup, enjoying the warmth of the tea.

The two of you converse about living at the watchpoint. About recent missions. His brother is mentioned briefly. You hope you seem friendly and accepting to Hanzo. You know some people are trying to forgive him like Genji did, but healing pain like that is slow going. You want Hanzo to feel included at the watchpoint. You know what isolation feels like, and you don't want him to go through the same thing.

"...do you agree, y/n?"

"Umm..." Your reply dies in your mouth. Your head suddenly feels light. You swear you can feel your brain sloshing around uselessly in your skull. It refuses to produce thoughts that you can voice. Hanzo's face seems farther away than it really is. You think you see Hanzo's eyes narrow, focusing on you. When you still don't answer his question, he raises an eyebrow.

"I was gonna...eat..." Hanzo disappears from your view. You lay your head on the table, trying to focus your eyes on the empty cup in front of your face.

"What were you making?" You hear Hanzo's voice from the direction of the cabinets.

"Instant noodles."

"That is not good enough for you," The wording surprises you. Something is "not good enough for you"? You? Hanzo continues criticizing your choice gently, "I know there are some leftovers in here," You hear the fridge door open, "Something with vegetables in it. And meat. Anything else will not do."

You lift your head partway from the table to watch Hanzo fuss about in the kitchen. He's fussing over you! Your health! You can't believe what you're seeing. There's something relaxing knowing that someone else is taking care of you. You don't have to do anything. Not having to do a thing means you don't have to worry about that thing you're not doing.

Having found suitable leftovers, Hanzo begins microwaving them. He takes the food out and tests the temperature. He decides that it's not adequate and puts more time on the microwave. You hear a series of beeps, and Hanzo strides over to the table. You sit up, and he places the food in front of you.

"Thank you," You tell him, managing a small smile. It's genuine, not forced at all.

His hand reaches out, and his fingers brush a piece of hair behind your ear. _He_ is _soft_! He naturally transitions into running his fingers through your hair, gently rubbing your scalp. That feels fantastic.

The expression on your face must have indicated permission to Hanzo to keep going. His hand moves to your back, gliding up and down. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your shirt, and it reminds you of the tea you had been holding earlier.

Hanzo makes himself more tea, and sits next to you while you eat. He glances at you a few times while you eat. When you're finished, he gets up to leave. You thank him again.

"It was nothing. I enjoyed your company. We should have tea again."


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Hanzo left, your mind resumed running laps in your skull.

_He was just being nice. Don't assume it's anything more. A man like that is probably interested in someone else._

That last one hurt. You got up from the table, deciding to find something to busy yourself with. Something to distract yourself from your own mind. Otherwise, you'd be trapped inside.

Turning around to put the dirty container away, it was suddenly obvious what could you do. The kitchen needed a clean.

No one could be angry with you if you did some cleaning, right? Double points for it being something no one seems to want to do. You pulled some rubber gloves on and set about wiping and scrubbing. Giving the counter top back its original white colour and washing the dishes that couldn't go in the dishwasher. A vague feeling of dread spurred you to make sure each corner was bright and each dish was spotless. Someone was going to yell at you if it wasn't perfect.

It was at the end that you questioned that feeling, asking _who_ would come down on you for being sloppy? The answer was actually no one, and it was a surprise each time you realized this. It was frustrating knowing you wasted all that mental energy for over nothing, even when you were trying to do something useful. It happened often, and it was out of your control, making you want to cry and throw a tantrum. But that's when you remembered why you were starting to take medication. It was some much-needed help.

Oh, well. Now that you had worn yourself out, it was time to head back to your room to hide. Doing anything that involved people felt like too much. You headed back to your room, hoping that each new hallway was empty. Thankfully, they were. But another issue cropped up. One of the side effects of getting used to your medication involved getting drowsy at bad times.

It can only be described as the overwhelming urge to stop and sleep. You can't keep your eyelids open. It's like they have weights attached to them, and you feel like you might drop off to sleep at any moment, despite still standing up.

"Are you okay?"

No, no. Not right now. That was Hanzo's voice. He was behind you, back from where you came.

"I'm fine. Just sleepy. Heading back to my room."

You turned to look at him. You were met with the most comfortable-looking sight. He had on clothes that told you he was intending to relax. A pair of sweat pants just loose enough to let little hints of the shape of his hips and legs show. A comfortably-fitting sleeveless shirt. Both made of fabric that you knew was soft just from looking at it. And you knew from earlier that his hands were soft, so was the rest of him like that, too?

"Mind if accompany you?"

"No, go ahead."

You were proud how casual you sounded. Hopefully, you sounded friendly, too.

The sound of his voice was hypnotic in your current state. Made you hone in on it and feel even more sleepy. If only it wasn't weird to ask another adult to read you a bedtime story. With cuddles. His clothes and muscles looked like the perfect things to cuddle up against. And you were so ready to drop unconscious. You were starting to believe you wouldn't make it to your room.

"If only you could carry me."

You covered your mouth, horrified. You said that out loud. What a fool. You just embarrassed yourself.

"Very well," said Hanzo, smiling warmly. 

Before you could process what was going on, he lifted you, an arm behind your knees and the other around your back. You only hung on because of your instinct to avoid falling to the floor. You'd have continued to be flustered, but he was as soft as he looked. And warm. So very warm. Your brain stopped chasing worries for the time being, and your let your head rest against his shoulder as he carried you to bed.

The truth was, Hanzo had been watching you from afar for some time. He had been waiting for an opportunity like this.


	3. Chapter 3

You were sure Hanzo would eventually excuse himself while you rambled at top speed, anxiously pulling thoughts from your mind and giving them audible form. Simultaneously trying to keep him there next to you, but also worried you were pushing him away with hastily-chosen words. You lay on your back, and him next to you, with you cowardly avoiding looking him in the eye. Then he rolled onto his side to face you, resting his head on a crooked arm, cheek against fist.

Hanzo was listening. Maybe hanging on every word.

_No, that can’t be._

His fist indented his cheek, pushing the flesh forward, and giving his face a sort of silliness. A less perfect look to his normally-perfect face. More approachable. His eyelids widened slightly, making rounder his almond-shaped eyes.

_He’s still listening. With that face of his. But there’s gotta be more to him than his appearance. Maybe I should ask._

You almost denied that niggling of a positive thought. Almost beat it down with self-defeating phrases. Instead, you bravely voiced it. 

“Would you…”

“Hm?”

“Would you tell me a story?”

He blinked in confusion, his eyebrows closing together.

“About…about your past. I want to know more. About you!”

You were so awkward, but he didn’t seem to notice. Hanzo’s eyelids narrowed. His dark eyes wandered elsewhere, and he considered your request. The crease between his eyebrows relaxed with a small smile as he focused his gaze back on your face.

“My family tells of an ancient legend of two great dragon brothers…”

_Two brothers? Him and Genji?!_

You leaned in closer and brought a finger up to nibble on the skin around your nail. Hanzo saw that you were listening intently and added more theatrical flair to his tale. His voice dipped deeper and grew louder. His free hand waved a few times to illustrate his words.

You were so wrapped up in listening, watching his face animate, and mentally noting and tucking away any parallels between the brothers in the story and the human brothers you knew in present time. You forgot to worry by the time Hanzo was finished. Your body remembered your previous exhaustion, though. Warm, comfortable sleepiness had replaced it. You mirrored Hanzo’s position, slowly rolling to face him. You wiggled a little closer, heavily-lidded, and curling into a sleeping position.

“My father used to tell me that story. Well, me and my brother.”

“What was your father’s name?”

“Sojiro.”

His pronunciation fell back onto a thicker Japanese accent, the word sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the English.

“Ahhh. So, was it you or your father that decided you should get this tattoo?”

“He did. It was a source of pride when I was younger,” he said, smiling and remembering the feeling.

“It’s not anymore?”

Looking at the tattoo now, with its intricate detail and intense colour, it should be a source of pride based on looks alone. Hanzo made the face when someone doesn’t want to tell the truth, and you regret asking the question. Before the anxious thoughts can bubble up, he admits, “Yes and no.”

"We don’t have to talk about it,” you offer quickly.

There’s that small smile again! You’re ready to melt into the bed. Or was it your sleepiness?

“That is kind.”

_He thinks I’m kind! How did he come to that conclusion? I must have tricked him somehow._

“You are tired.”

“No, I-"

“Nonsense, come here.”

You dropped all pretense of politeness in a split second when he pulled you close. His small smile widened when you both fumbled, trying to find a comfortable position. It had the fun innocence of two people trying to get to know each other, trying to figure out how and if they fit together.

Turns out you could at least fit your bodies together to cuddle. You got away with laying your cheek on his shoulder, so your lips could grace his neck. The skin was heavenly-soft.


End file.
